


What It Means To Be Alive

by orphan_account



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Bat Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gangsters, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Multi, New Family, New Homes, Past Child Abuse, Talons, Threats of Violence, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 23:49:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13646985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Taylor Dawn is just like any teenager his age. Smart, athletic, thirty million dollars in debt to the mafia. He just had one more job left, and he'd be free. Then Batman had to come along and fuck it up. But maybe that's for the best? Now that he's living with Bruce Wayne, this expert thief must learn to cope with people caring about him and make amends for past mistakes.





	What It Means To Be Alive

It had started as a simple job for the mafia. Get in, grab the documents, get out and meet with the contact. But Taylor knew that things didn't often go as planed in his line of work. He'd gotten in fine enough, even managed to snag himself some pizza from the fridge. He'd grabbed the documents from the safe, no resistance. If was just the  _getting out_ part that had gone from simple to difficult.

A light turned on in the hallway and Taylor looked to see the tall, imposing figure of the one and only Batman. Standing by his side, was Red Robin. The three of them stared intensely for a moment. "So...I can explain." Taylor said, a nervous smile on his face. Batman hummed, like he was scolding a young child. "See, I was actually... _returning_ these documents."

"Mhmm." Batman crossed his arms over his chest. Red Robin mimicked him.

"Yep...see." He stood there for a second before booking it down the hallway. He could hear something approaching him quickly. He was about to throw himself through a window when a vice like grip grabbed him by the arm and threw him down on the ground. His head hit the wall and his vision swam. Red Robin was leaning over him, about to restrain him in bat shaped cuffs. Taylor kicked the young hero in the face, hearing his nose crack under his boot. He quickly got to his feet and ran back towards the window, but a much harder punch to the gut had him doubling over in agony. He vomited up his small dinner. He dropped to his knees and Batman pushed his face into the hardwood floors. He cuffed Taylor's hands behind him and forced him to his feet. 

"Let go!" Taylor growled, throwing his weight down on the ground, thrashing around in the masked vigilante's grip. Batman slung him over his shoulder, not even seeming to be bothered by Taylor kicking and banging on his muscled body. It was like he didn't even feel it, though Taylor was putting all the force he could manage behind his blows. "Let me go, you asshole!" He screamed. 

Red Robin was behind them, gathering up all documents that Taylor had dropped. He stuffed them into his tight shirt and followed silently behind Batman, slightly to his left side. He had blood running down him face, dripping onto his shit collar and onto the ground as they walked. He was smirking at Taylor smugly, his staff slung over his shoulder. He was ready, should Taylor manage to get free from Batman, which was looking less and less likely. 

Batman opened the Batmobile and put him in the back, making sure to buckle him up, tightening it so he would be safe while they drove. Red Robin jumped into the passenger seat and Batman flopped down into the driver's seat. Taylor was renewing his efforts to try and get free. He was slamming his head back against the seat, kicking Batman's in front of him. He saw Red Robin was watching him smugly. "You could try for a little dignity." He suggested. 

"Fuck you!" Taylor aimed his next kick into Red's chin, but his ankle was grabbed by Batman. 

The tall man turned around and leveled Taylor with a stern look that made him feel like he was being scolded by a parent. "That's  _enough."_ He said firmly, an edge to his voice that warned of danger. When people spoke to Taylor like that, there was normally a punch or a slap that followed for misbehaving. He pulled his foot away from Batman and tucked his legs behind him, in the next seat over. He rested his face against the dark purple glass of the Batmobile. He wasn't getting out of that one, and he knew it. 

He didn't even want to know what the Falcone family was going to do when they found out about him failing his mission. Or when the Nikiforov's found out he had been snatched up by the Bat. He'd managed to fail two powerful crime families. Those documents would have helped end the gang war. Now they could unite under a new cause. Killing him so he couldn't talk. He had a few hours left at most. The rats in the GCPD would be contacting their bosses the second they saw him walk in. Taylor was a hot commodity among the mafia cells of Gotham city. They called him Printless. A little lame, maybe, but accurate. He was the best thief the city had to offer. He'd had too, when his parents had skipped town, leaving him with their giant debt to Falcone. He'd been working on paying it off since he was nine years old, and he just had  _one_ job left until they would be square. But now...

Now he was a loose end, that no one with any sense would leave untied. He was going to die. He  _was_ going to die.  _He_ was going to  _die._ He felt panic beginning to rise up in his chest. His breath was coming out in short gasps. His entire body was shaking from head to toe. He wondered how it was going to happen. Would they hang him when he was in the holding cells? Would the dirty cops shoot him for 'resisting.' Have someone stab him? Order him to do it himself? He didn't want to die. 

He knew it was all  _their_ fault. But they'd been smart, they'd gotten out when they had the chance. Taking a little kid along with them would have just slowed them down. He had always been unwanted cargo anyways. They'd left him with nothing, and he'd managed to pull himself up in the criminal underworld. He'd had his run in's with Bat's friends on occasion, but he'd always managed to make a witty comment before making a daring escape. But this time he'd been enclosed and caught off guard. 

"Yeah! Love this song." Red suddenly bent forward and turned up the radio. He turned to Taylor, mocking grin in place. " _Sad little b_ _itch you can't fuck with me, if you wa-nted too! These expensive, these is red bottoms. These is bloody shoes. Hit the store, I can get 'em both. I don't wanna choose. And I'm quick, ooOOffFfcut a_ _hustle. Don't get comfortable. Look, I don't dance now. I make money moves. Say I don't gotta dance. I make money move. If I see you and I don't speak. That means I don't fuck with you. I'm a boss, you a worker bitch. I make bloody moves!"_  He turned and sighed when Batman turned off the radio. "I was having fun." 

"It's good to see that." Batman said. "But save it for latter. This is a serious situation." 

Red sighed and slumped down into the chair and propped his legs up on the dash board. "So we taken him to the GCPD? This one's a rare case." He gestured with his bloody chin towards Taylor who was still cowering in his seat. "Hood is going to be  _pissed."_ He pressed a hand to him com, and called out to the Red Hood. It was several calls before Red Robin got a response. "Oi, you'll never guess who we just picked up." He paused for a second. "I'll give you a hint. About fourteen years old, red hair, and annoying as fuck." There was a loud curse over the line and Red laughed loudly. "Guessed right on the first try. Want to say hi?" He asked. There was another reply. "It's fine, I don't think he wants to say hi to you either. Well, just wanted you to know that we caught him before you. Red Robin, over and out." He clicked his com off and sighed in content. 

"You shouldn't antagonize him." Batman warned.   

Taylor looked that the two of them in bitter amazement. He was going to be murdered and they were arguing about some kind of weird family drama. He watched the two of them from the backseat, trying to calm himself down. There had to be a way, there was always a way. Some hidden door was there, just out of sight. But there were no doors in the Batmobile. 

"You can't take me to the police station." He muttered from the back. "If you do, you might as well just shoot me yourselves." He said, more sure when he noticed that he had both of their attention. Taylor could practically feel them roll their eyes at him. "Not kidding, the second Falcone finds out that you nabbed me, he's going to kill me, I won't survive the night." 

Red tsked. "Yeah, that's so  _convenient."_ He muttered. "We don't buy it, and even if we did, what's one less thief on the streets." 

Taylor growled and kicked the back of Batman's seat again, causing the masked man to huff in irritation. Taylor curled up as tightly as he could, and looked out the window. "Jackass." He muttered quietly. 

* * *

The station was as it usually was on a Friday night. Or any night, really. There were people being yelled at, led away, some were sobbing into the arms of loved ones. Taylor was handed over to one of the lieutenants who was thanking Batman over and over again. Batman wouldn't have even bothered to bring him there, but he needed to see the commissioner about something. He and Red Robin left them. 

Taylor was watching every single person in the room, waiting for something to happen. But everyone was staying in their lane. He felt his shoulders relaxing slightly. Maybe they weren't planing to just randomly spring up and kill him is a crowded station. But really he should have known better. Nothing was going his way that night. The lieutenant had turned his back for a second, to talk to another cop when an old homeless man pulled out a gun and aimed it at Taylor's chest. 

There were five shots that rang out in the air, four of them hit him, and the last... he wasn't sure where it'd gone. He slammed back against the wall, clutching at the open wounds. There was blood slipping out from between his fingers. He knew they'd come for him, he _knew it_.  There was yelling and screaming and someone was putting pressure against the wounds on his chest. It wasn't doing his airflow any good, but he thought that it didn't really matter. He was being lifted up into strong arms and that was the last thing he remembered before he slipped into unconsciousness.  It really wasn't his night. 

He was being taken somewhere, every part of him hurt. He could hear loud beeping. There was something holding tightly onto his hand. There were a few times where he felt like there was electricity was being forced through his body. There were two people talking above him. One of them was deep, frustrated, just like his papa when he and ma had skipped town. "Pa..." He muttered. He felt something hold his hand, and the voice spoke quietly. "Papa, please don't go. I can steal real good. Don't leave me, by myself. Ma, why ain't you sayin' nothin'?" He asked sleepily. The voices weren't speaking any longer, but he could feel fingers running along the outside of his hand, and he passed out again. 

* * *

When he woke again he was handcuffed to a hospital bed. Not that he was going anywhere. When he tried to sit up, blinding white pain kept him from going any further. He laid on his back, gasping for air. He laid still as the pain subsided. The door to his right suddenly opened, and a well dressed man, who Taylor was very familiar with, strolled in. Taylor was sure that he must have robbed him a few times. Snatched some cash out of his pockets. Bruce Wayne. 

"Good morning, Taylor, how are you feeling?" He asked, elegantly sitting in the chair beside the bed. Taylor continued to look at him with wide eyes. "Maybe I should introduce myself. Bruce Wayne, a pleasure."

"Uh, yeah..." Taylor couldn't take the hand that was offered to him. Too hard to move. "Why are you here?" He asked suspiciously. 

"That, yes...see you'll be staying with me for awhile." He said hesitantly. "My lawyers worked it out with the police. If you agree to testify against Falcone, you'll be given two months of jail time then a year of house arrest and six weeks of parole." 

"Why though?" He asked. 

"See that's the funny thing, _Batman_ was the one who suggested it. Called commissioner Gordon this morning, and they called me. I was more than happy to help you. I have a son around your age, actually I have a lot of sons, but he's the closest to your age." 

"I'm fine, don't need your help." Taylor waved him off. 

The man looked at him stunned for a moment. "Do you know what the jail sentence would be if you  _didn't_ have a large legal team backing you up?" When he saw Taylor shake his head he pressed his lips together. "The DA wanted to ask for 15 years, chance of parole after ten. Do you want to spend the rest of your young life behind bars?" He saw the way that Taylor's eyes widened with fear, so he reached forward, and just brushed against his hand. "This could change your life, Taylor." He said. "I'm not unfamiliar with your background-" 

"You don't know shit!" Taylor spat, then coughed and clutched his chest in pain. "No one knows anything about what my life looks like." He looked away from Wayne, and felt his eyes burn into his skin. "But I don't want to go to jail for fifteen year. I don't have to call you dad, do I?" He asked, chewing on his bottom lip. 

"No, you can just call me Bruce. Or Mr. Wayne. Whatever you're comfortable with." He was obviously happy that Taylor had accepted. "Until the trial, you'll be staying with my family, then you'll go to your own sentencing, do your time, then return home. It'll go by in a flash." He stood and placed something on the bedside table. "And you can help put away a very dangerous man." 

"If I last that long in jail, you mean." Taylor muttered. 

"You will." Wayne assured him. "You're strong. There will be people there who can protect you. Don't be afraid, I'll look after you. Now get some sleep. We'll be leaving for the manor tomorrow." He said. 

When Taylor gathered the energy some time after Wayne had left he grabbed the thing that was on the bedside table. It was a book. A journal, actually. With creamy white pages and a real leather cover. Inside, Wayne had wrote a message.  _'For when it's to hard to say, but to painful to keep it inside.'_ Taylor laid the book back down and closed his eyes. Maybe the Wayne dude wouldn't be so bad after all.  


End file.
